Waking to feel the weight of the void
you left when you left me behind.
Searching restlessly for any remaining
sense of you in these god forsaken sheets.
Plowing mindlessly through the memories
scorched into my mind - branded forever yours.
Will there be an ever after?

All I want to do is be.
To live as close as I can to free,
and know what it's like to taste, smell, hear and see,
and to touch things that live, like a bird in a tree.
But they are not only birds, things that live and int'rest me,
things that are alive come from the land, air, and sea.
To say one form of life is the best, would be a travesty,
For what can make a bird more alive than a bee?
I draw great joy and comfort from life's diversity,
but not only in difference, is founded my glee.
There are things the same in lifeforms, from elephant to flea,
like how we rush to please our instincts, so compulsively.
But unlike the lustful wants of others, humble is my plea,
to pass this genuine love for life from my own, on to thee.

I want me and thee to be free to see an end to travesty and plea that adversity flee, for we to love compulsively and treasure our diversity, live a life so full of glee, that it will suffice to just be.

My sense of self
is defined
by what I eat
what happens afterwards
and by the scars on my skin
and on my heart
that I was told would heal,
but were meant to bleed,
and by the way you hold me
closely
like I am your answer,
and the fact that I wrote so many words
for my ex-boyfriend that I have none left for myself,
but I seem to have an abundance for you.
My sense of self is defined
by the whirlwind of passing daydreams
and photographs that surround me
and pieces of other peoples' poems...
pieces of my own poems that I barely remember writing.
When the sun sets behind the horizon
cuts through the sky and fades
into starlight and haze
I inhale twilight
and exhale tranquility.
Late night loaded plates
and bathroom trips
early morning cigarettes
and paper cups of caffeine
more sugar than coffee.
Afternoon poetry and photographs
smiles and laughs
followed by midnight bloodshed
and silence,
by my recovery.
My sense of self is defined by
what I love
and by who loves me
by the words and stomach acid
that roll off my tongue
and the heave of my chest
during laughter and after dinner,
by the tears shed by my eyes
and my skin,
the way that I bury my face in your chest,
the toxicity and twilight
that I inhale
the smoke, vapour, tranquility
that I exhale
the popping of my spine
and of alcohol bottles
the hiss of a pipe
and the way they say my dreams
go up in smoke,
I say the smoke spells in the air
the words of my future novels
and poems.

WHAT AM I DOING
rhyming is hard
just like rhubarb
pie
sly pie
why are you sly, pie?
the frog is on a log
with the hard rhubarb pie
I’M SO NOT DIGGING THIS
i kind of just want to fling
myself off a bridge
this is really hard
lard
there is NO POINT TO THIS “POEM”
NO WORDS RHYME WITH POEM
have you ever noticed how teenagers are SO ******* SAD
TEENAGERS ARE SO SAD
THEY ARE SO SAD
AND FOR WHAT
SAD BECAUSE YOU WERE CALLED A ****
ITS SO HARSH BUT ITS TRUE
PUSH YOUR BACK AGAINST THE WALL AND BE BLUE
IF YOU CHOOSE

nope not happening
down to the important stuff

trying your luck // the strokes
old yellow bricks // arctic monkeys
electric feel // mgmt
alone, together // the strokes
stray away // the colourist
games // the strokes

SLY PIE
rhubarb pie

///
If I go through the darkness
I see, all around the darkness
but I have a third eye
where there I can see your light

you are the light
that enlighten me
where there I find my way

If I go through the wrong
I see, all around the wrong
but if I hear through my another third ear
where there I can catch your voice

I find your words
that brings my words
where there I make my poetry

If I go through thee known song
I feel, I can't go through the whole song
but if I feel through my third sense
where there I am very curious to seek your song

I try to sing your song
that makes my melody
where there I can make my song again

If I go through thee mind
I feel, I lose my interest rapidly
but if I feel through my third vision
where there I feel the spirituality  

I try to understand your mind
that brings shine on my mind
where there I can make my soul again

If I go through thee road
I feel, I can't grow my motion
but if I think through my sixth sense
where there I move to your road again

I try to go through your road
that makes my speed again
where there I will make my love again
///
@Musfiq us shaleheen

Here I sit,
In my vapors
Waiting here for some toilet papers
How much longer can I lingers
Before I have to use my fingers